


Shy

by RarePairFairy



Series: Fears [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Domestic, Grumpy Old Houseproud Men, M/M, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, man crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-15
Updated: 2014-01-15
Packaged: 2018-01-08 19:16:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1136397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RarePairFairy/pseuds/RarePairFairy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris Argent doesn't get shy. No, he doesn't. Stop looking at him!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shy

Chris Argent didn’t get stage fright in the same way Poirot didn’t get the flu: Yes, it happened. But no-one was allowed to know about it.

He didn’t get self-conscious or intimidated. He didn’t get nervous. All of those things happened to teenagers, non-hunters and lesser men and women. Chris Argent had been trained to shut out fear. He had been trained to perfectly compartmentalize his emotions.

Which was why he was absolutely not in the slightest bit anxious about tonight.

Chris eyed his bottle suspiciously, and tipped the rest of its contents down the sink. Truthfully he didn’t think it was the beer, but he wasn’t yet ready to admit to himself that he’d started drinking it in the first place because John was going to arrive in twenty minutes and his steely nerves needed a little extra steeliness.

But Chris wasn’t nervous at all. The apartment was perfect and dinner had finished baking and was keeping warm in the oven and Chris had spent about fifteen minutes changing his shirt and jeans and making sure his belt matched his shoes, and wondering whether wearing shoes in your own apartment was weird if you weren’t planning to actually go out.

His stomach was unsettled. Maybe he was coming down with something. Maybe there was something in that beer after all. It wasn’t butterflies though, because butterflies were for nervous people, and Chris Argent Does Not Get Nervous. And even if he did get nervous there was no call to be, because Chris Argent Does Not Make Mistakes. The carpet was vacuumed and his shirt looked good and he’d picked the recipe especially because John said he didn’t like eggplant and there was _no need_ to be nervous because John was just coming over to compare notes and see if they were chasing the same murder suspect after all.

Because that was all it was. There was no need to impress John, so even if, God forbid, the unthinkable happened and Chris overlooked a speck of dirt or a small smudge, it was no big deal. Because they were pals. Not even that, more like allies. Fellow single fathers whose kids happened to be close friends. “Pals”, come to think of it, was an off-putting term.

Chris was allowed to be house-proud, anyway. John had nothing to do with it. Chris was just in the habit of impressing people. If it were Melissa or even Lydia’s mom in the same circumstances, he’d spend the same amount of time and effort on making sure the place was presentable. Probably.

He discovered a community of tiny bits of lint in the right pocket of his jeans, and was evicting the lint into the trash when the knock finally came at the door. Chris stood up straight and brushed imaginary dust off his shirt, then checked his fingernails. In passing, he checked his teeth too in the hall mirror.

Or, you know, maybe he didn’t. Because Chris Argent Does Not Get Self Conscious.


End file.
